


A Friendship of Sorts

by Brytanie



Series: How to Fall Out of Love [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brytanie/pseuds/Brytanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre struggles with his feelings for Grantaire, Grantaire is still in love with Enjolras, and suddenly things aren't so simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friendship of Sorts

“Do you want a ride home?”

Grantaire glances up from the table, smiling.  _Even after a month, Combeferre still calls fucking “a ride home”._ “If by home you mean the nearest bar, then yes.”

Combeferre frowns.  “You’re drinking again tonight?”

Standing up, Grantaire raises his arms above his head, stretching himself out, watching carefully as Combeferre’s gaze drops briefly to the edge of exposed skin just above his jeans.  _I will never get tired of that._ “Does that surprise you?”

“Come back to my place,” Combeferre says.  “We can drink together.”

“No.”  They never go to his place.  _And Combeferre knows damn well why, so why is he even asking?_

“To yours, then?”  Combeferre smiles, placing a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder.

Drinking with Combeferre is a bad idea.  Grantaire knows this.  After all, Grantaire doesn’t drink for fun.  _But it could be interesting, seeing Combeferre drunk_ , he thinks _.  And we haven’t had drunk sex yet, so might as well get that over with._

“Well, if you’re going to be so persistent, then – “

“Combeferre?”

_Fuck._

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says amiably.  “Well-run meeting tonight.”

“Of course,” Enjolras says.  “After all, you planned it.”

Grantaire observes silently, fiddling with his sweater zipper.  _Enjolras sounds so...friendly._  

“With you in mind,” Combeferre says.  “I wouldn’t have been able to lead it half as well.”

“Can we perhaps postpone this circle jerk?” Grantaire says uneasily.  “It’s kind of creepy.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, eyes flicking over to him for a moment before his attention returns to Combeferre _._ “I apologise for interrupting your conversation.  I was only wondering when you were planning on leaving.”

“Ah, right.  I forgot you were riding with me tonight.”  Grantaire stares at Combeferre. _Make Courfeyrac drive him.  Make Joly do it.  Anyone else._

But Combeferre doesn’t even look at Grantaire.  “I’ll drop you off on the way to Grantaire’s.”

_Fuck you._ A slippery little feeling slides through his ribcage.  _You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?  Didn’t even stop to think of me._

Enjolras stares at Grantaire, surprised.  “You’re going to Grantaire’s?”

“Yes, he is,” Grantaire says, not particularly fond of being referred to in the third person.  “Shotgun.”

“Shotgun?”  Enjolras perks up a little, and Grantaire scoffs.

“For the front seat, Enjolras,” Grantaire says, placing his hand gently on his shoulder as he passes by him.  _Then maybe if I glare at Combeferre hard enough he’ll crash the car and kill us all._

 

The car ride is not as awkward as Grantaire was expecting, in the sense that Combeferre and Enjolras completely ignore he’s even there.  Grantaire only speaks to tell Enjolras to put on his damn seatbelt – which, of course, goes thoroughly ignored.  Enjolras instead spends most of the ride leant forward in between the two front seats, as if he weren’t sitting in the back at all. 

Despite being ignored, Grantaire deems the drive a relative success as they pull up to Combeferre and Enjolras’ apartment building.  _No awkward comments or anything._ But then just as Enjolras is gathering up his belongings, he asks, “So what do you two have planned this evening?” 

Grantaire already knows how to deflect such a question.  He opens his mouth to do so, but Enjolras talks right over him. “I hope you haven’t wrapped Combeferre up in too much trouble, Grantaire.”

_That’s it._

“Combeferre and I are fucking,” Grantaire says matter-of-factly, then turns to watch Enjolras’ reaction.

Enjolras looks at Combeferre, half smiling, awaiting the truth.  Grantaire glances at Combeferre to see him staring back at Grantaire in alarm. 

“I...” Combeferre starts, clearing his throat.  “I meant to...mention it.  Earlier.”

“Ah,” Enjolras says uncomfortably, expression faltering.  “Ah.”

Words flutter in the air as all three of them begin speaking at the same time.  Enjolras, of course, prevails.  “How you spend your personal time is none of my business,” he says.  Enjolras’ gaze lingers on Grantaire and Grantaire waits for him to say something terrible.  “I hope you two enjoy yourselves.”

Then Enjolras leaves the car.

“Well that went swimmingly,” Grantaire says.

Combeferre doesn’t reply.  Grantaire half expects him to follow Enjolras up to their apartment, but he just puts the car in gear and drives away.

 

“Are you going to explain to me why you said that?”  Combeferre asks, sipping at the shitty drink Grantaire mixed for him. 

“How about you start?” Grantaire says.  He doesn’t bother with a glass, just takes a swig straight from the bottle, grimacing a little at the bitter taste of whiskey.  “Nice of you to take Enjolras along with us.”

Sighing, Combeferre leans back into the couch and looks over at Grantaire.  “Did you expect me to leave him stranded without a ride?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Grantaire says, waving his bottle.  “You’re the only one among our friends with a car, of course no one else could have done it.”

“I’m sorry,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire hates how he sounds like he means it.  _How am I supposed to stay mad at you?_ “I thought you might not like it.  But I already told him I would drive him home.”

“Then why did you ask me to come over?”

“I did genuinely forget about my agreement with Enjolras.  And...” Combeferre looks at him for a long moment, then turns his gaze down into his drink.  “I worry about you.”

“You...”  _What?_ “Why?”

“I’ve heard the stories Courfeyrac and Bahorel like telling so much,” Combeferre says.  “It’s enough to concern anyone who cares about you.”

There’s so much there that Grantaire wants to refute but he can’t speak, can only drink in sullen silence. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got home at least tonight,” Combeferre continues.

“Stop.”

Grantaire takes in another mouthful of whiskey then turns to look at Combeferre.  The alcohol is starting to settle into his bones, loosening his thoughts and relaxing his tongue.

“Pretending to care so much about me isn’t part of our deal.”

Combeferre frowns.  “I’m not pretending. I really do-“

“Well I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”  Grantaire stands up.  “I’m going to take a piss.”

 

An hour later and they’re both halfway past tipsy, splayed across the couch, late night comedy movie playing before them.

“Combeferre,” Grantaire says, holding his arms open, “Come cuddle.”

Combeferre places his empty cup on the coffee table and crawls over to Grantaire’s side of the couch.  Situating himself between Grantaire’s arms, Combeferre falls into Grantaire’s chest with a sigh.  Grantaire ruffles his hair and takes off his glasses.

“How do you expect me to watch the movie now?”  Combeferre says.

“At this rate, you’ll be too drunk to see soon anyway,” Grantaire says.  “Plus, you should be kissing me, not watching crappy romcoms.”

Combeferre hums and tilts his head up, placing a gentle kiss against Grantaire’s lips.

“That’s all I get?” Grantaire complains.

Huffing, Combeferre turns and props himself up on his elbows, straddling Grantaire’s waist.  Like he always does, Combeferre pauses a few inches away from his lips, staring down into Grantaire’s eyes.  The room is too dark to see much but the soft outline of his face.  Grantaire doesn’t want to see his expression, so he wraps a hand around the back of Combeferre’s neck and pulls him down.

The kiss is still more chaste than usual.  It remains so until Grantaire bites at Combeferre’s bottom lip. Sighing softly, Combeferre slips his tongue into Grantaire’s mouth, curling fingers up into his hair. 

_Almost better than fucking._

The thought startles Grantaire, the implications of it beyond what his drunken mind can handle.   He runs his hands under Combeferre’s shirt to distract himself, feeling Combeferre’s muscles tighten under his fingertips.

“Grantaire,” Combeferre breathes.  Grantaire cranes his neck upward to kiss softly at Combeferre’s neck, trying to find the spot that always makes him shiver.

“Grantaire.”

It’s another moment before Grantaire realises something’s wrong.

“What?”  Grantaire slumps down, gripping at Combeferre’s sides, not letting him pull back.

“We can’t.”

Grantaire frowns.  He leans up to kiss Combeferre again but Combeferre jerks away.  Annoyance bleeds into his mind.

“Stop teasing me.”  _Don’t play games.  Not you._

“Grantaire.”  It’s too quiet, almost going unheard over the background chatter of the movie.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t.”

Grantaire blinks, eyes shifting to the side, searching for his bottle of whiskey.  “So that’s it then?”  _Don’t be surprised, Grantaire, you knew this would happen._

“No, no.”  Combeferre chuckles.  “I can’t give you up that easily.  I only mean for tonight.”

“Why not?  Still pissed at me for tattling on you?”  Grantaire knows he’s being a little shit.  But the words fall out before he can tuck them away.

“No, but I think you’re still angry with me,” Combeferre says.  “I’m worried you wouldn’t want to do this if we weren’t drunk.”

“Fuck you,” Grantaire says, leaning up to kiss Combeferre.  Anger flares in him when Combeferre backs off at just the barest touch of their lips.  “You don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“True,” Combeferre says, and he sits up, leaning away from Grantaire.  “But I do get to decide how I feel.”

“Then why are you even here?”

“What?”

“Why are you here, if you weren’t planning on having sex with me?”

Combeferre sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m too drunk to deal with this right now.”

“Well there you go.” Grantaire pushes Combeferre completely off of him.  “Just another thing you can blame on me.”

Combeferre shoots him a look.  “It was my idea to drink tonight.”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’d be drinking on a Wednesday if it weren’t for me.”  Grantaire finally spots his whiskey, forcefully unscrewing the cap.  Combeferre plucks the bottle from his fingers.  “Give that back.”  _Such a fucking child._

“You’ve had enough.”

“Have I now?” Grantaire says.  “So that’s why you’re here.  To parent me.”

“Can’t you just consider for one second that I’m here because I care about you?”  There’s anger there, in his tone and in his eyes.  Grantaire can’t look at him.  “That it’s not just about sex?  That I also want to be your friend?  Wasn’t that also part of the deal?”

Grantaire has never really seen Combeferre angry.  Not until now. 

“I’m sorry.”  Grantaire wants to curl up under Combeferre’s arm like he does sometimes after they fuck.  He wants to fall asleep and pretend they never fought.  _I want a lot of things.  Doesn’t mean I ever get them._

Combeferre’s expression softens considerably, but his questions still hang in the air.

“You can sleep here for the night.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

Then Grantaire gets up and stumbles to his bedroom, his thoughts too chaotic to solve anything.

_In the morning,_ he thinks.  _There will be time in the morning._

 

But when Grantaire shuffles out his bedroom at dawn, apology perched on his lips, Combeferre isn’t there.

“Fuck,” Grantaire mutters.  “Fuck.” 

Grantaire searches the apartment for his phone, prepared to call and text his way to forgiveness, but finds a note instead, written in Combeferre’s looping scrawl.

_Grantaire,_

_I want to apologise for my actions yesterday.  From the moment I agreed to drive Enjolras home until the very end of the night, I was entirely unfair to you._

_I shouldn’t act like you owe me anything.  You told me that my feelings were unwanted and yet I continued to try and force them on you._

_I can’t promise I will stop caring about you, but I will do so more quietly in the future._

_If you wish to continue our friendship... I’ll leave that up to you._

_Combeferre_

Grantaire rereads each word carefully, trying to match them with his muddled memories.  He remembers his own fear, his anger, his petty actions.  Nothing of Combeferre’s so-called unfair treatment.

_What kind of person makes someone apologise for caring about them?_ And yet...the thought of it remains terrifying to Grantaire.  _Inexplicable, given all the times I’ve dreamt that someone would care about me.  But I never claimed to be logical._

Sighing, Grantaire sets the note down gently.  _I’ll have to talk to him.  In person.  Sort this all out._

Grantaire can only hope his lost courage suddenly finds him when the moment comes.

 

Two weeks pass, and Grantaire doesn’t say a single word to Combeferre. 

_Just start a conversation,_ Grantaire thinks, watching Combeferre help a young girl read her way through a children’s book.  _Just say a single word.  Say hello.  You idiot, Combeferre, why would you leave the talking up to me?_

Grantaire had expected an opportunity to speak to Combeferre to arise naturally.  Some shared glance that would kick start a conversation, a chance meeting in the lobby, an offered ride home... _Maybe not that last one._

But Combeferre, true to his word, had completely avoided Grantaire.

_Trust Combeferre to do exactly what he said he would,_ Grantaire thinks, frustrated.

“You know those chairs are for the children.”

Startled, Grantaire stands, blushing at being caught staring by Enjolras.  “Right.  Sorry.”

“No need to apologise.  It’s not like there’s another child here who needs it.”  Enjolras raises an eyebrow.  “Although I can’t see how its small dimensions could be comfortable for you.”

“Well, life is full of surprises,” Grantaire mutters.  “What can I do for you, Enjolras?”

“You are done your tutoring shift, correct?”

“Yeah.”  In all honesty, Grantaire had spent most of it watching Combeferre tutor rather than actually doing so himself.  _Not like Combeferre needed any help._

“Then I could speak with you for a moment?”  Enjolras asks.  “In my office?”

“Of course.”  Grantaire tries not to think too much as they walk to Enjolras’ office, but his anxiety doesn’t cooperate.  Questions stack on top of each other.  Grantaire focuses on breathing.

Enjolras’ office is a mess, stacks of papers and books strewn about the room.  Enjolras settles in comfortably behind his desk and motions for Grantaire to take the only clutter free seat available.

“I realise this is a rather formal setting,” Enjolras says.  “But I actually didn’t ask you here to talk about _Les Amis.”_

“Okay.”  _Please don’t be about Combeferre.  Don’t be that stupid, Enjolras._

“I think there is an unfinished conversation between us,” Enjolras says slowly. 

“Is there?”  _Enjolras..._

“Yes.  About you and me.”

Enjolras’ words are so unexpected that Grantaire doesn’t respond immediately.  Thoughts whip through his mind as he scrambles to understand.  “I...really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no point in feigning ignorance,” Enjolras says sharply, before taking a slow breath.  “I don’t want to bring this up again anymore than you do.  I understand it’s painful, but – “

“Enjolras,” Grantaire interrupts, “I actually don’t know what you’re talking about.  A hint would do you wonders.”

“You...don’t?”  Enjolras’ brows crinkle in confusion.  “Surely, you must remember.”

“Remember _what_?”  He may be in love with him, but no one manages to exasperate Grantaire quite like Enjolras does.

“I suppose it’s possible...you were quite drunk...”

“ _Enjolras._ ”

“You told me you were in love with me,” Enjolras says.

_...What?_ “I did?” 

“Yes.  At our New Year’s party.”

_Well fuck._ The very same night he realised he was in love with Enjolras.  _Eight months ago._ Eight fucking months that Grantaire’s been trying to desperately hide his feelings for him, and Enjolras knew all along.  _I got black out drunk so I wouldn’t remember falling in love with you, and instead I told you all about it._

“Don’t tell me how it happened.  I’m sure I embarrassed myself.”

“Actually it was rather sweet-“

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says gently.  “No.  Please.”

“Fine,” Enjolras says, smiling a little.  “I only brought it up because I don’t want Combeferre to get hurt.”

Grantaire returns the smile, feeling his stomach collapse inward on itself.  “So that’s why you’re talking to me.  For Combeferre’s sake.”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, oblivious.  “As you two are...involved, it seems unfair to him to continue without his knowing about it.”

“Unfair to _him?_ ”  Grantaire laughs.  “The whole thing was his idea.”

“Feelings can change,” Enjolras says.

_Don’t say that._   “Not for us.  Plus, he already knows.”

“He knows?”  The thought seems beyond Enjolras’ comprehension.  “How?”

“He figured it out on his own.  He’s pretty smart.”  _Too smart, even._

“I am aware.”  Enjolras still seems thrown by the turn of events.  “And yet even knowing, he still continues this relationship with you?”

“Actually,” Grantaire says with a dry smile, “This all happened _because_ he knew.”

That revelation sends Enjolras’ eyebrows to his hairline.  “ _Why_?”

“You’ll have to ask him that.”  _Although you may not like the answer._

“This is all very odd,” Enjolras mutters, shifting some of the papers on his desk around.

“If it makes you feel any better...” Grantaire swallows.  “I think what we had is done with anyway.”

Enjolras blinks at him.

“We had a fight.  A couple weeks ago.  The night I told you about us.” 

“Ah.  Well, then that explains his moping.”

_Moping?_ A flurry of emotions kick up inside Grantaire’s chest.  “Strangely difficult to imagine.”

“I actually thought it was because he had feelings for you,” Enjolras says, apparently put at ease.  “Feelings you couldn’t return because of how you...feel for me.  Although...”  His expression shifts.  “His sadness over the end of your relationship would indicate he does indeed have feelings for you.”

“Very good, Enjolras.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Enjolras says.  “I am only trying to help Combeferre.  And by the way you stare at him, you could use some help sorting this all out yourself.”

Grantaire grins.  “So you’ve been watching me watching him then?”

“I...”  Enjolras presses his lips together.  “I’ve noticed...well, you usually look at me.  Lately that’s changed.  I did...take notice.”

Grantaire has no idea what to make of that.  “Right.”

“You should go talk to him,” Enjolras says.  “He should still be here.  Clearly you both have things to say.”

“That doesn’t mean they should be said,” Grantaire replies uneasily, thinking of his New Year’s Eve confession.

“Nonsense,” Enjolras says briskly.  “Of course they should.  Talk to him tonight, before it’s too late.”

_I think you mistake me for yourself, Enjolras.  I don’t have courage for such things._ “I’ll talk to him.”  _I can’t promise how much I’ll say though._

Enjolras nods and waves Grantaire out of the room. 

Just as Grantaire opens the door, Enjolras calls, “Wait.”

“Yes?”  Grantaire looks over his shoulder at him.

“Isn’t it against the rules, to sleep with my best friend?” Enjolras says.  Grantaire at first thinks Enjolras is making fun of him, but then he sees Enjolras’ earnest expression.  _He really wants to know._

“Only if we had slept together,” Grantaire replies, considering Enjolras for a moment.  “I suppose that means we can’t sleep together now.”

Out of all the emotions in the world, the last one Grantaire expects on Enjolras’ face is disappointment. 

“I see.”

Grantaire steps out and shuts the door before he can trick himself into believing what he saw was real.

 

Just as Enjolras said, Combeferre is still in the library, although the girl he was tutoring is no longer there.  _I guess that will make the conversation less awkward,_ Grantaire thinks.  _Marginally._

Grantaire plops down into the child-sized chair next to Combeferre and stares up at him from his lower vantage point.  “Hi.”

Combeferre closes the children’s book in front of him and smiles.

“Hello, Grantaire.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! :)
> 
> There will be a third and final installment to this series at some point.
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr at willtheworldrememberyou if you want to come chat!


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